Some Surprising Words in Praise of Joe Walsh

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Today is the birthday of Eagles’ guitarist Joe Walsh (b. 1947)

Every so often I’ll do or say something and the Duchess will look at me and say “Who are you?” What can I say? We all have layers. I’ve been doing a lot of excavating lately for some autobiographical writing and I’m afraid you may see some surprising seventies shit bubble outta me. I apologize in advance.

Anyway, not long ago I had some time to kill before meeting the Duchess at some play or other, and so I walked into a burger joint (an old school greasy spoon not a fast food place), and ordered a burger and a beer, and was sitting there enjoying them, and watching NASCAR on the TV, and then “Hotel California” came on. I was about 12 or 13 when this tune came out, and I’m from a small town surrounded by rurality. So it was mighty pleasurable, this cultural confluence of beer, burger, car race and Joe Walsh….sort of like the feeling you get when you take the laughing gas in the dentist chair. I practically had a crackergasm. There. Now you know.

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